


Zevran/Warden Week 2017 Prompts

by minwrathous



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: M/M, Tumblr Prompt, ZevWarden Week, Zevran/Warden Week, Zevran/Warden Week 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2018-12-11 02:37:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11705055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minwrathous/pseuds/minwrathous
Summary: It's back!! A collection of the prompts I've worked on forZevran/Warden Week 2017on Tumblr.





	1. Tension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Day One: Massage**  
>  The sort of skills that one only learns growing up in an Antivan whorehouse. Whether it continues beyond just massage is up to you!

Nymm stepped into his quarters and let out a sigh. He shut the heavy door behind him and fought the urge to sag against it in relief. Finally, he had a moment to just...be alone. No more more dwarven politics. No more representatives from Bhelen or Harrowmont hounding him for support. No more pressure to choose a side. Well, at least for tonight, anyway.

Tonight, he could just sleep.

“Good evening, Warden,” a voice unexpectedly purred.

Nymm looked up in surprise and found that he wasn’t quite alone after all. He felt a little smile tugging at his lips as he realized whose voice it was.

“Hello, Zev,” Nymm said. The assassin was sprawled out on his bed, wearing only a shirt and light leather breeches. Nymm stepped away from the door and drew closer to the bed. “I see you’ve made yourself comfortable.”

“That I have,” Zevran replied with an easy smirk. “I am quite offended - your bed is much more comfortable than my own. And you don’t even have to share the room.” He put on a convincing pout and stretched his arms out to take up even more bedspace.

“Don’t I?” Nymm replied with a laugh. He took a seat on the edge of the bed and looked down at the other elf.

“I can leave if you wish,” Zevran said. “Return to my own smaller quarters, and the brooding qunari I left behind.” He smirked at Nymm.

“No, you don’t have to go.” Nymm shook his head. “You know I don’t mind sharing.” In fact, Nymm had been sharing his tent with Zevran more frequently over the past few weeks. He’d expected to share his current quarters with the other man, but both Alistair and himself had been given private accommodations. Nymm supposed it was an effort on somebody’s behalf to win the Wardens’ favor. The joke was on them, though; he couldn’t remember if it was Bhelen or Harrowmont who had provided lodgings for their party.

“I see you came prepared,” Nymm said, nodding toward the low bedside table. An unfamiliar vial of oil was sitting next to a flickering candle. “Is that a new type of oil?” It didn’t look like the kind that he and Zevran normally used when they were intimate.

“I did, and it is,” Zevran replied. He sat up and scooted closer to Nymm.

“Ah,” Nymm said, half-sighing. As much as he enjoyed having sex with Zevran, he wasn’t sure he was in the mood tonight. It usually helped him alleviate stress; tonight, he felt like it might not work. He didn’t want Zevran to leave though; he enjoyed his company, regardless of the sex. “Some special dwarven concoction?” He continued, gesturing at the oil. “...what would that even be made from? No, don’t answer that.”

“No,” Zevran chuckled. “I didn’t buy it here; I brought it with me. And it is not for what you are thinking. No, no. I have other plans for you tonight.”

Nymm looked at him curiously. “Other plans?”

“Yes,” Zevran replied. “If you would be so kind as to disrobe, I would like to show you.”

“Other plans that involve oil and me being naked? I don’t know, Zev,” Nymm replied. Still, he obediently began to undo the top of his robe. “This seems like what we usually do before you bring out the oil.”

“You are not wrong, Nymm,” he replied with a low chuckle. He leaned in and began to help with the robe, his deft fingers quickly undoing the buttons and ties that held it on. He was close enough that Nymm caught the familiar scent of leather and something vaguely spicy. It was very Zevran.

“Thank you,” Nymm murmured. He tried not to dwell on how he was starting to find Zevran’s smell comforting. Thinking about that might start dredging up feelings, and the last thing he needed to worry about now was feelings. Instead, he started working on the belt around his own waist.

“There,” Nymm said, sliding the belt off and parting the fabric. He let it drop from his shoulders, then stood up so he could remove the robes entirely. He was left wearing only his smalls. And his boots.

“Maker,” he grumbled, and bent over to undo them. “I always forget the bloody boots.” He paused long enough to glance up at Zevran. “...unless I should leave them on?”

“Boots off tonight,” Zevran replied with a smirk. He was staring at Nymm’s ass, of course. “You may leave your smalls on, should you prefer.”

“Really?” Nymm undid a boot buckle. “That is different. Zev, what am I undressing for?”

Zevran hummed and moved to grab the oil from the bedside table. “It occurred to me that you never got that massage I promised you.”

“Massage?” Nymm sat back down so he could pull his boots off. “Oh. Wait…” He remembered it now, the ‘massage’ Zevran had suggested back before he’d first bedded Nymm. The Warden had assumed the massage had just been codeword for ‘sex’. “Was there actually supposed to _be_ a massage?” He let a boot drop to the stone floor.

Zevran laughed. “Well, there could have been. Truthfully, it was about sex that time. But I did not lie about being a master of the Antivan massage.” He uncorked the vial and gestured to the bed.

Nymm let the second boot drop and crawled back onto the bed. “So...you’re going to massage me now?” Nymm had never had a massage before. He lay back, suddenly feeling stiff and a little awkward. He was back in uncharted territory again.

“Yes,” Zevran replied. “Roll over onto your belly, if you please. I would start with your back.” He waited for Nymm to flip himself over before he straddled the Warden’s ass. “Relax, my Warden,” he said, letting his hands slide up the other elf’s pale back.

“I am relaxed,” Nymm replied. Wasn’t he?

“The sad part is that you believe you are correct,” Zevran murmured. Nymm heard the cork pop as Zevran opened the vial. “I have seen how tense you are lately.” Nymm could smell the oil now - almond, with a hint of some other unknown spice.

“You bear the weight of responsibility. You let it wind you up tight. Far too tight.” Zevran’s hands pressed against one of his shoulders, slick with the oil. It was warm now. It felt...nice.

“No jokes about being tight?” Nymm asked. He frowned as Zevran began to add more pressure to the shoulder. It wasn’t as nice now; it was starting to hurt a bit.

“There are some things that shouldn’t be so tight,” Zevran replied with a warm chuckle.

“Should it…” Nymm hissed as Zevran’s fingers dug into him even more. Hurt? He was interrupted as the pain in his shoulder suddenly shifted to something deeper. More satisfying. He felt some of the tension release and he let out a satisfied grunt. “Oh.”

So that’s why people liked to get massages.

“There it is,” Zevran said, his oiled hands sliding across Nymm’s skin to the other shoulder.

“Mm,” was Nymm’s only response. He closed his eyes and felt himself sink a little deeper into the mattress. At least not everything down here was made of stone.

Zevran worked silently, his skilled hands drawing out more contented noises from the Warden. Nymm didn’t even stir when those hands found their way to the back of his neck. It wasn’t lost on him how vulnerable he’d made himself around Zevran since they’d started spending more time together. He knew why Zevran was so skilled at massages. What better time than now to slip a dagger into his back? To pull out a small blade with poison? Or even to slide his hands around further and apply that pressure to his throat?

Instead, Zevran scooted himself back so he was sitting just below Nymm’s ass. His hands slid down to the center of Nymm’s back and kept up their work.

“So, tell me,” Nymm said after a moment. He sighed as one particularly tense spot was loosened. “Why are you doing this?”

“Why?” Zevran hummed. “Because you need it.”

“I need it?”

“Yes,” Zevran replied. “I said before you that you bear the weight of your responsibility. I know that our time here in Orzammar has been particularly stressful,” Zevran replied. “So many expectations. People wanting your attention. Your assistance.” The assassin’s hands slid down more, over Nymm’s lower back.

“I could see today that you were nearly overwhelmed, and if I can help you with some of that stress, I will. I’m rather good at being a distraction, as you well know already.” Zevran chuckled.

“I suppose I can’t argue that,” Nymm replied. He hadn’t realized that Zevran had been watching him so closely. Paying attention to him. But...something still bothered him. Something that had been on his mind more often lately.

Soon after they began having sex, Nymm had come to understand some of Zevran’s motivations. Cozying up to the Warden had been a survival tactic at the start, hadn’t it? But so many things had happened since then. Did Zevran still think that he needed to remain useful? Was that why he was keeping himself so attuned to Nymm’s moods? If so, it bothered Nymm. Deeply.

“You do know that you don’t have to, Zev. I appreciate it, but...you shouldn’t feel obligated to keep me happy like this,” Nymm said softly. The hands at his back stopped mid-push and pulled away. For a moment, Zevran was simply a silent weight pressing down on Nymm’s lower body.

“You assume that I feel a sense of obligation then,” Zevran finally said. There was no trace of laughter left in his tone. “But perhaps I do this because it is what I want to do.”

“...because you want to?” Nymm echoed. He felt a flutter of something in his belly. Zevran sounded so sincere, and maybe a little offended that Nymm had misunderstood his motives.

“Yes,” Zevran replied. “I want to make you feel good. I...do not like seeing you so miserable.”

“Well,” Nymm said, his throat suddenly dry. He got the sense that there was some bigger thing lurking beneath the surface of those words. There was something building between them that neither man was ready to acknowledge.

“...I’m decidedly less miserable now,” Nymm said after a moment. It was easier simply to move on and ignore any of the awkwardness.

“Good,” Zevran replied, and put his hands just above the Warden’s ass. He went back to the massage, and both elves remained quiet, thoughtful. They’d both danced around some unspoken truth, and there was a sense that the two of them would keep dancing. For a while longer, anyway.

Zevran kept moving down the other elf’s backside, continuing his massage lower and lower until he ended with the Warden’s feet in his hands. By the time Zevran was done, Nymm was half-asleep. His entire body felt relaxed and kind of tingly. It was pleasant.

He was roused when Zevran prompted him to roll over. Nymm grumbled a little, but obliged after a moment. He didn’t spare any worry for the oil that was now getting all over the sheets. It would be somebody else’s problem in the morning.

“Shall I continue with your front?” Zevran asked. He’d crawled up the bed until he was kneeling beside Nymm and peering down at him.

“...I think I’m sufficiently relaxed now,” Nymm replied, still a little groggy.

“Damn,” Zevran said with a little smirk. “This is the part where the massage gets a little more interesting.” One hand trailed down to touch the top of Nymm’s smalls.

Nymm smiled and shook his head, then put his hand on top of Zevran’s. “Perhaps tomorrow. I think you’ve done me in tonight.”

Zevran nodded in understanding and began to pull his hand away. He would take his leave, then. He paused when he felt Nymm’s hand tighten around his.

“Stay with me?” the Warden asked, tugging on his hand. He looked up at Zevran, eyes both hopeful and tired.

Zevran paused. “Of course, Warden,” he replied. “Let me remove my clothes. You are a bit too oily for them.” He chuckled and gently extracted his hand. Nymm simply grunted in response and rolled over onto his side.

After a moment, the candles near the bed were snuffed out. Zevran slipped into bed next to Nymm, pressing himself up against his oily back. The assassin pulled the covers up over them and wrapped an arm around the Warden. Nymm knew he’d be kicking himself in the morning for not cleaning up before sleep, but he was too comfortable to bother. And clearly Zevran didn’t mind. He smiled at the thought and scooted closer.

“You weren’t wearing any smalls, were you?” Nymm murmured as he settled back against the other elf. He could feel Zevran’s nakedness through the thin fabric of his own smalls.

“Of course not,” Zevran chuckled.

“Sorry,” Nymm said, his voice soft. Here, after giving Nymm such a relaxing massage, Zevran was being left unfulfilled. Nymm felt a twinge of guilt. “I can…” He reached back with his hand, trailing it along Zevran’s naked thigh.

“No,” Zevran said. “Do not worry about it. You need to sleep.” His voice was warm, but firm. Nymm pulled his hand back and let out a little sigh. He’d just have to show his appreciation at a later time, preferably when he was more awake.

“Thank you, Zevran,” Nymm said. “For tonight. For all of this…” He trailed off. It was too hard to keep his eyes open now that he was so comfortable again.

“You’re quite welcome,” Zevran replied. But it fell upon deaf ears. The Warden was breathing deeply, already asleep.

Zevran chuckled softly to himself and shifted to get more comfortable. He allowed himself a brief second to nuzzle at the other man’s neck, not caring about the oil that was covering them both. He’d gone to sleep in far worse conditions.

“ _Good night, my dear_ ,” Zevran said, his words in Antivan and barely a whisper. He placed a kiss at the nape of Nymm’s neck; it was far more gentle than he was used to giving.

After, it didn’t take long for him to follow the Warden into sleep.


	2. Seaside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Day Two: Domestic**  
>  Zevran and his Warden live exciting lives, but what about when the world isn’t ending?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's more domestic than a little vacation? This takes place after a story that I’ve been working on, set a few months after Awakening. Both Zevran and the Warden are taking some much-needed time off together in Antiva. Also, they may or may not have ended up married.

 

Zevran closed his eyes and let out a contented sigh. The sun shining down on him warmed his skin, and the air was fresh and smelled of the sea. The gentle sounds of the nearby waves gently soothed him. While Zevran loved Antiva City and all of its wonderful (and chaotic) glory, there was something to be said for calm of the seaside. Sure, it was isolated and a little boring, but sometimes it was good to take things more slowly. **  
**

He wriggled his toes in the clean sand and smiled to himself. He stretched, taking stock of the various aches and pains that were quick to remind him he was still recovering. They’d left Antiva City a few days before and traveled north along the coast. They’d decided to stop for rest in a small town and had happened across a pleasant old woman who was willing to rent them her villa.

Much to their mutual surprise, it  _hadn’t_  been a trap. Somehow, the two of them were sharing a rather cozy (albeit rundown) villa with its own beach. Luck was finally on their side.

Zevran smiled and turned back to look at his lover.  _Or was it husband? Were they actually married now? Perhaps that was a topic for a later conversation..._ In any case, he looked back at Nymm, who was sitting on a blanket a few yards farther back on the beach. Zevran’s smile froze.

“Mi amor,  _what_  are you wearing?” Zevran asked. He did his best to keep the smile plastered on his face.

“A hat,” Nymm replied his blanket.

_A travesty_ , Zevran thought to himself.

Even after the parade of awful headwear Zevran had witnessed during their Blight-related travels together, the Warden somehow managed to surprise him still. Today’s number was large, floppy, and a disgusting shade of khaki. It covered the Warden’s entire head, including his long ears, and cast a shadow over his face and shoulders. _Braska_ , why would he choose to put that on his head?

“Where did you find such a...thing?” Zevran asked. He made his way back across the sand to stand at the edge of the blanket. Nymm hadn’t been wearing the hat when they’d walked to the beach; he must have carried it out here and waited until Zevran’s back was turned to put it on. He  _had_  to know it was hideous.

“In the villa,” Nymm replied, unconcerned. He gingerly picking a bit of string from the hem of his light cotton shirt. That was another thing - he still wore a sleeved shirt and light breeches. Compared to Zevran, who was shirtless and wearing loose-fitting shorts, the Warden was much too overdressed for the beach.

“Perhaps it should have stayed there,” Zevran said with a snort.

Nymm looked up at him with narrowed eyes. Or, at least Zevran thought they were narrowed; the hat still obscured most of the other elf’s face. “There’s nothing wrong with my hat,” he replied.

“I am afraid I must take issue with that statement, amor,” Zevran replied. He put his hands on his hips. “It’s hideous.”

“I’m not wearing it for aesthetics,” Nymm said peevishly. “I’m just trying to protect myself from the sun.” He crossed his arms over his chest with a little sigh, then tilted his head up so he could see Zevran. “It’s much brighter here.”

Zevran raised an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you use some of the balm I brought?” he asked. He winced as he realized he hadn’t offered any to Nymm when he’d put it on himself.

Nymm shook his head. “I’ve tried it before; it doesn’t work very well for me,” he sighed.

“Your magic, then?” He squatted down so he was more level with Nymm. He knew that Nymm had used simple protective spells in the past. Alistair used to tell stories about the earlier days of the Wardens’ journey - apparently there was a lot reddened skin and blistered feet in Nymm’s past. This, of course, had been mostly taken care of by the time Zevran had joined the group.

For the most part, he’d missed out on getting to watch Nymm adapt to ‘being outside’. Sometimes, though, he could still get glimpses of it. He couldn’t help but feel a little amused.

Another sigh. “It’s hard,” Nymm grumbled.

Zevran tried to bite back a laugh. He was almost successful.

“It is!” Nymm insisted. “There’s so much more sun here than back home. There’s hardly any cloud cover, and does it ever rain?  _Really_  rain? Maker, I miss the rain, don’t I? In any case, all the sun just means any protection spells take more effort to maintain. And...stop laughing at me!”

But Zevran couldn’t help himself; he’d already lost it. Nymm just sounded so petulant; it was a side that very few people got to see of the Warden. But really, it was the sight of Nymm’s hat angrily flopping around as he complained that had done Zevran in. “ _Fereldans_ ,” he wheezed. “Give them a glorious seaside vista and they long for the mud.”

Zevran started laughing again, tears gathering at the corner of his eyes. He was nearly doubled over, clutching at his sides. He was barely able to keep upright as he continued to squat in front of Nymm’s blanket.

“Oh, sod off,” Nymm replied. He thrust his leg out and planted a bare foot square in the middle of Zevran’s gut. The motion caused Zevran to tip backwards, his sense of balance no match for the hysterics he’d worked himself into. Zevran fell back onto the beach, still laughing.

Zevran lay on ground, unbothered by the sand. It was warm and clean, and it made him feel good. It felt nice to laugh, regardless of the ire it was earning him. This trip really was what he’d needed. Eventually, he was able to get his laughter under control. His stomach hurt from his fit, but that itself was another good feeling. He looked up at the sky and squinted into Nymm’s accursed sun.

“I cannot believe the Arl of Amaranthine just told me to sod off,” he said after a moment. and turned his head. All right, so maybe the sand in his hair was going to get annoying. He was distracted when a toe prodded his side.

“He’s going to do more than just tell you,” Nymm grumbled. He pulled his foot back when Zevran reached out to paw at it.

“Is that a promise?” Zevran asked, pushing himself back up to a seated position. His back was covered in sand.

“Ugh,” Nymm replied, and glared at him from under his hat.

“I’ll ask again later.” Zevran flashed Nymm a winning smile and climbed to his feet. “For now...care to join me for a swim?” He held out a sand-covered hand and Nymm looked at it, distrust clearly written across his face.

“But I. We just discussed…” He trailed off and paused, flustered. Zevran held back a laugh. “The sun!” he jerked an arm upward to point, shirt flapping as he gestured.

“Yes,” Zevran said, suddenly sober. “Use your magic then if you are worried. You only said that it’s harder to maintain, not that it isn’t possible. So...swim with me. Please.” He kept his arm extended, still patiently waiting for Nymm to take his hand. “It will be fun.”

It took another moment, but Nymm’s hand eventually found Zevran’s. The assassin easily pulled the Warden up to his feet. Zevran smiled at the warm feeling that rushed through him. He would do his best to make sure Nymm enjoyed himself; he wanted the other man to feel as good as he did now. He squeezed Nymm’s hand briefly before letting go.

“I suppose I can. For a bit,” Nymm said with an indulgent little smile. It was hard for him to say ‘no’ in the end. He removed his hat and set it down on the blanket. His white hair shone bright under the sun.

“Excellent,” Zevran said. He deftly removed his own shorts and shimmied out of his smalls.

“...oh,” Nymm said, blinking at now-naked elf in front of him. Zevran didn’t miss how Nymm’s eyes were drawn along his body, following the dark lines of his tattoos.

“You didn’t expect me to go swimming in these, did you?” Zevran laughed. He bent over to pick up his shorts and smalls, then tossed them unceremoniously onto the blanket. Nymm made a face as the sandy clothing landed right on top of his hat. “And you can’t tell me you’re ready to go swimming in all those clothes. We are skinny-dipping today, Warden-Commander.”

“We...are?” Nymm blinked at him. Zevran grinned back, unwilling to budge from his position. Nymm gave a long-suffering sigh, and pulled his own shirt off. He let it fall to the blanket before fiddling with his pants. “This is going to take a lot more magic than usual,” he grumbled to himself.

Zevran was too busy admiring the Warden’s shoulders. Far too pale to be in such bright sunlight, and dappled with freckles. Zevran felt the sudden need to kiss them. They’d seen each other naked countless times before, but never in such a bright and open space. Even bathing together while traveling across Ferelden hadn’t been like this, mostly because they’d never really been alone during the days.

“There,” Nymm said, pulling Zevran away from his staring. The Warden stood now, pantsless and shining in the sun like some alabaster beacon. Zevran watched as Nymm concentrated. There was a shiver of magic in the air as a spell moved over him. Zevran’s eyes followed the rippling of air that moved across Nymm’s body.

“That’s that,” Nymm said. “Hopefully that will hold well enough. ...Zevran?”

“You’re still wearing your smalls,” Zevran pointed out.

“Yes,” Nymm said. “I trust my magic, but only to a point.”

“But it is not truly skinny-dipping if you’re still wearing them,” Zevran insisted. He pointed to his own exposed parts, as if it would prove something.

“Zevran, I love you dearly, but I will not risk a sunburnt cock for you,” Nymm deadpanned.

“But…”

“No,” Nymm said, and took Zevran by the hand again. “Come on. I believe you wanted me in the water.”

Zevran let out a defeated sigh and followed Nymm to the water’s edge. He supposed he’d take what he could get. “I want you many places,” he said, and squeezed Nymm’s hand. He curled his toes in the wet sand and felt a little thrill when the waves finally washed over them.

“I’m well aware,” Nymm said, and chuckled. He reluctantly stepped forward and let the waves wash up over his own feet. “Um. I suppose I should mention that I don’t really know how to swim very well.” He kept hold of Zevran’s hand as the assassin turned to looked him in surprise.

“You’re joking,” Zevran said. They’d bathed in rivers and lakes together before. Though...now that Zevran thought about, Nymm had never strayed that far from the shore, had he? “But. How can you not know? You were raised on a lake.”

“I lived in the  _middle_  of a lake,” Nymm said dryly. “And they wanted to keep it that way, which is precisely why they  _didn’t_  teach us how to swim.” He wrinkled his nose and dug a toe nervously into the sand.

“Ah,” Zevran said. Sometimes, he really did forget how different their upbringings had been.

“I mean, I suppose I can handle water. I know enough not to sink,” Nymm said, filling the silence. “But the ocean is just so...big.”

“Fear not, my Warden,” Zevran said, and squeezed his hand. “I will help you stay afloat.” He stepped forward and began wading into the water. He gently tugged at Nymm, urging him to come along. Nymm followed, still holding Zevran’s hand.

Once they were in the water, it was clear Nymm was more nervous than he’d initially let on. Zevran remained patient; they stayed in the shallows as Nymm grew used to the water up around his waist. Eventually, Zevran convinced Nymm to go out a little farther. The waters around the beach were fairly calm, and they were in no danger of the tide going out.

Nymm began to loosen up, and Zevran was able to get him to try floating on the waves. It was a success. Soon after, Nymm was treading water, albeit a little shakily. He was even able to do a decent doggy paddle. Really, he really was much better in the water than he’d made himself out to be. Gradually, the Warden grew more confident, which in turn relaxed Zevran. They were fine as long as they didn’t go out too deep.

Bolstered by their success, things quickly became less serious. Soon, they were playfully grabbing at one another as they bobbed along with the waves. Zevran took hold of Nymm once and nearly managed to throw him. This earned a splash of water to the Antivan’s face. Zevran knew they were practically acting like children, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. They were having fun.  

Zevran dove beneath the waves once, appearing again a short distance from Nymm. He smirked as the Warden was forced to shakily doggy paddle after him. Zevran did it again not long after, disappeared under the water. As Nymm waited to see where he would re-appear, Zevran made a grab for Nymm’s legs. He managed to catch hold of them, hands sliding easily over him under the water.

Before Nymm knew what was happening, Zevran had managed to pull the other elf’s smalls off entirely. He popped up above the waves and drew a deep breath of air. He then let out a triumphant cackle and waved the undergarments over his head. His laughter quickly turned into a shriek as the water around him magically dropped to near-freezing temperatures. It was Nymm’s turn to laugh as the assassin was left cursing and shivering.

Zevran got his revenge later on. Or rather, the ocean did when a particularly strong wave left Nymm sputtering and grabbing onto Zevran for dear life. Zevran was all too happy to hold Nymm a little closer as he recovered. Unfortunately for Nymm, the wave also happened to steal his smallclothes away. Or so Zevran claimed...

After that, they both agreed that they were starting to feel a little fatigued. They’d been in the water for quite some time, and the sun was lower on the horizon now. They began to make their way back to shore, though they paused in the shallows once again for a moment. There, Zevran drew Nymm in for a kiss.

The kiss lengthened. Deepened. Nymm’s arms tightened around Zevran and they pressed themselves together as the waves swirled around their waists. Nymm made a soft sound into the kiss as Zevran’s hands slid down to squeeze at his ass. Zevran could taste the salt on Nymm’s lips, on his skin as his lips moved down to his neck.

“We should go back,” Nymm said after a moment. His voice was breathy, and very much full of desire. Their cocks, both half-hard already, were pressed against one another beneath the water.

“Mm.” Zevran reluctantly pulled his mouth away from the Warden’s neck. He’d left behind what would soon become a very nice love bite. “The sun won’t trouble us much longer,” he pointed out, keeping close to the Warden.

“No,” Nymm agreed. “But there’s a bed inside.” He reached around and gave Zevran’s ass a squeeze. “And you may have gotten me to swim naked in the ocean with you, but I have to draw the line at having sex in the sand.”

“That’s fair,” Zevran laughed. “I don’t care much for it myself. Speaking from experience here.” He was fine with going inside and making use of one of the available beds.

“Of course you are,” Nymm snorted. He pulled away from Zevran and walked out of the water. Zevran stood for a moment and watched him go. He would choose not to comment on how pink the Warden’s shoulder had gotten. Instead, he followed him out of the water.

The two of them gathered their belongings and hurried back into the villa. There, they proceeded to shut themselves into one of the bedrooms. Nymm, of course, noticed his sunburn once he was on his back. Lucky for him there was a very handsome elf between his legs to help keep him distracted from it. For a while, anyway.

Later on, once they were sweaty and sated, Zevran glanced over at Nymm. The other elf’s nose and ears were as pink as his back. Zevran felt a twinge of guilt as Nymm’s eyes fluttered shut.

Zevran regretted that Nymm had lost his battle with the sun today; he knew it was all his fault. Still…he didn’t think he would take any of it back. Their time in the ocean had been nice. Relaxing. Fun. They’d both needed it, much like they’d both needed this time in bed together. They only had a few days to themselves in this villa before it was time to move on again.

They would find other ways to amuse themselves the next day. There was a small wine cellar that they could raid. They could cook together. Perhaps a walk along the shore, looking for shells. Maybe they’d find something interesting along the way - a tidal pool, or even a pirate’s treasure.

Regardless, Zevran knew that he would be paying his penance for today’s sunburn - he would have to let Nymm wear his hideous hat.

At least it was big enough to provide them both with a little shade should he lean in for a kiss.


	3. Roles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Day Three: Fancy Dress**  
>  Balls, disguises, you name it. How do they react to seeing each other in special clothes?

It had been a while since he’d last been to Val Royeaux. And even then, the city hadn’t looked this good. Zevran looked out over the city from the small balcony of the hotel they’d arrived at the day before. The city outside was bustling with activity. Colorful banners were streaming in the gentle sea breeze, while the late afternoon sun reflected off the tops of the buildings. There was a new Divine, and tonight all of Val Royeaux would be celebrating.

And seeing as the new Divine was an old friend of both Zevran and his husband, there was no way the two of them would be missing out on this.

“Are you sure about this?” a voice called from the room’s attached bathroom. “Does it really make sense for me to be the one wearing this? Shouldn’t you be the fancy one??”

“My dear,” Zevran said, pulling back from the balcony and turning to go back into the room. “We’re celebrating our return to civilization after a successful quest. _Your_ successful quest.”

“That’s funny. I thought we were here to celebrate Leliana becoming Divine,” was the dry response.

“Can’t it be both?”

There was a loud sigh of resignation from the bathroom, then silence. Zevran adjusted a buckle at his side. His own outfit was rather simple for Orlesian finery - tight grey pants with knee-high leather boots. A white shirt with puffed up sleeves beneath a dark grey doublet that was patterned and lined in silver. His hair was held back in one long braid. His mask sat on the bedside table; it was a simple silver and ivory piece that would cover the upper half of his face.

Neither man wanted to call attention to their true identities while they were here in Val Royeaux. So, they were attending the festivities incognito. It was something they’d done many times before - new names and new stories helped to simplify travel. Tonight, Zevran was playing the lesser role - the assistant and bodyguard to a mysteriously wealthy elven merchant. And Nymm was… He looked up when he heard movement from the bathroom and felt his mouth go dry.

“What’s my name again tonight?” Nymm asked, pausing in the doorway. He looked a little uncertain, almost uncomfortable in his outfit.

“It’s…ah…” Zevran couldn’t remember either; not while he was looking at the other elf.

Nymm was wearing a black leather coat - big in the shoulders in the current Orlesian trend, with a large open collar embellished in silver and crimson. The shirt he wore under the coat was black as well, with a high collar of its own that was embroidered in silver. The coat itself fit tight to his waist before flaring out at the bottom. Down below, his boots went up to his thighs, which were clad in tight black leather.

“Zevran? Or…shit. I forgot your name too,” Nymm winced.

Zevran’s eyes trailed up along Nymm’s body. “I…am _Hugo_ tonight,” he managed to reply. He blinked and took in Nymm’s face, which was caught up in a look of concern. It was a little strange seeing him with newly dyed blonde hair - hair that was slicked back and styled into some strange swooping shape.

“Hugo,” Nymm said. “You’re staring.” He was smiling.

“I am,” Zevran agreed. “… _Guillaume_. We went with Guillaume for you. And I am staring because you deserve to be stared at. Wearing _that_.”

“Oh, Guillaume. that’s right,” the Warden replied, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. Even now, Zevran still knew how to catch him off guard with compliments. He moved closer to Zevran and reached out to touch the simple collar of his doublet. “You’re sure we have the right roles tonight then?” he asked, smoothing the fabric down.

“Yes,” Zevran replied. He put his hand on Nymm’s cheek and lightly stroked it. Nymm leaned into his touch. “You look amazing as you are.”

“Try not to flatter me too much,” Nymm replied with a huff of laughter. “I don’t know if I can get out of these clothes. And if I can, whatever comes off now isn’t going back on me. Especially the boots…” He made a face.

Zevran chuckled, a low warm sound. “Fear not. I’ll restrain myself for now. But later…I promise I’ll help you take them off.” He leaned in for a kiss. Nymm returned the kiss and melted against him, his hand moving down to gently clutch at Zevran’s hip.

They were interrupted a moment later when a bell began to toll somewhere in the city outside.

“Ah,” Nymm said, pulling back. His cheeks were flushed. “We should get going.” He reluctantly let go of Zevran and stepped away. He moved over to the bedside table to retrieve his mask.

Zevran followed and picked up his own mask. He slid it on and looked over at his husband. Nymm was putting on a black feathered mask - a fancy affair with silver filigree and a curved beak-like nose. It may or may not have resembled a crow.

“I still can’t believe you convinced me to wear this,” he said with a laugh.

“Mi amor, if you could see what I see…you’d know why I did.” He grinned and offered Nymm his arm.

“Think Leliana will notice us?” Nymm asked, linking his arm with Zevran’s. “We didn’t tell her we’d be showing up…”

“She may not recognize the two us, but believe me. It’s very likely she’ll notice _you_.”

 

* * *

 

Some of the senior Chantry sisters hadn’t approved of Divine Victoria’s choice in celebration. A masked ball that welcomed all comers, regardless of status? They were practically shaking in their robes over what sort of rabble would show up. There were calls for her to change her mind. To cancel the ball, or at the very least, bar non-nobility.

But Leliana hadn’t backed down. The sisters were going to learn early on that this was her way of doing things.

And once the ball got underway, Leliana sat smugly on her throne and looked out over the celebration. It was crowded and loud and full of all sorts of people, but nothing was going wrong. So, the affronted sisters were forced to fall back on complaining about the little things.

Like the two elven men who were dancing inappropriately beneath the painting of Divine Renata I.

One offended sister snidely commented loud enough for Leliana’s to ‘overhear’. Leliana looked over, her sharp eyes immediately honing in on the two men. Ah. They _were_  dancing rather close, weren’t they? At least they danced well, and really seemed to be enjoying themselves. Nothing wrong there… 

Wait.

Leliana paused for a second, taking a closer look at the pair. There was something about them that looked familiar. Oh! Her eyes widened briefly in recognition and she had to hold back an amused snort.

They should have told her they were coming!

And honestly, a _crow mask_?? She would have words for them later.

For now, they could just enjoy their dance.

 

 


	4. Acquainted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Day Four: AU**  
>  What it says on the tin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is something I’ve thought about a bit. Basically ‘Surana isn’t the Warden’ AU. Anyway, this got a lot longer than I expected. About 4K words. Holy crap.

_Kinloch Hold._

Zevran feels a cool hand touching his brow. He hadn’t realized how hot it was before the hand was placed there. He tries to move, to lift his head. He was in the middle of a fight! The Warden!

“Shh. Don’t move,” a voice says. Male. Cool, like the hand. “You’ve been injured. You need to lie still.”

Zevran settles. “The Warden.” His voice is harsh, his throat much too dry. “She…”

“Your friends aren’t here; they had to leave you here because you were hurt,” the man with the cool hand says, gently stroking Zevran’s forehead. Zevran can feel the healing magic flowing out from the hand. “They’re off trying to end all this.”

Zevran remembers now. They’d arrived at Kinloch Hold and found the place overrun with demons and blood mages. The Warden - Mahariel - had insisted on going in to try to clear it out. They’d been in battle when Zevran had been struck from behind and…

Zevran opens his eyes and finds himself looking up at another elf. Another elf with white hair, a worried expression, and tired violet eyes. _Oh_ , Zevran thinks. _His eyes…_

Nymm. His name is Nymm and he survived the initial demon-fueled uprising because he was in an isolation cell at the time. He fidgets a little when he tells Zevran this. Zevran tells him not to worry; who is he to judge? What matters is that Nymm started helping others once he found his way out of his cell. He’s been hiding with a group of survivors in a large kitchen pantry, healing those he can and protecting the younger mages.

He’d been out scavenging for supplies with another apprentice when they’d stumbled across the Warden’s party. Zevran had been unconscious after taking the hard blow to the back of the head. That, combined with a deep gouge to his shoulder, had been enough to worry Mahariel.

So, the Warden had been forced to leave Zevran in Nymm’s care.

Nymm tells Zevran this as they sit and wait for the Warden to return. Or for the demons to finally take over. Or for Templars to burst in to murder them all. Any of the outcomes is just as likely as the other, so instead they focus on talking about other things. They talk about a lot of things, and Zevran realizes he’s starting to like this mage.

It’s hard waiting. But at least the company isn’t bad.

Finally, it’s the Warden that returns to them, and Zevran is very glad to see that his friends are victorious. Still, there’s a strange part of him that regrets leaving that pantry behind. But the day has been saved, and the mages can be left to sort themselves out. He bids farewell to Nymm.

When they leave the tower, there’s a new companion with them - an old woman named Wynne. For a moment, Zevran wishes that another healer had been able to come with them as well. But Nymm’s place is in the tower.

Zevran hopes that they don’t put him back in the cell; if there’s somebody else that’s earned a second chance, it’s Nymm Surana.

 

* * *

 

_Redcliffe._

They do battle with hoards of the undead. They finally make it into the castle, only to find more undead, an imprisoned blood mage in the basement, and one possessed lordling. Wonderful. Zevran wonders if anything will ever go right on this blasted quest.

Warden Mahariel decides that she’s sick of magic, and Zevran can’t help but agree. But then she goes and decides to consult the mages at Kinloch Hold with their possession problem. It has to be a better idea than just trusting the blood mage, Jowan, or simply killing the boy, right? Well…Zevran doesn’t really agree there, but he trusts her judgement.

She sends Leliana and Sten back to the Circle while the rest of them wait. Hopefully the undead stay dead for the time being.

Sten and Leliana quickly return to Redcliffe with a small company of mages and Zevran is pleased to see a familiar white-haired elf. It seems that they’ve kept him out of the cells after all. But Nymm looks deeply unhappy when his is introduced along with the other mages. He barely meets Zevran’s eye.

Zevran wants to speak with him, but there’s no time. They’ve waited too long as it is, and the ritual must be done if they are to save the boy. Nymm steps forward to volunteer as the mages prepare. He insists that he will be the one to go into the Fade. Zevran feels a pang of worry at this - how can they expect the a healer to fight?

But nobody argues. Mahariel simply asks Nymm if he can do it. Nymm nods, and Zevran can’t help but notice that Nymm shoots a particularly cold look at the blood mage. Jowan quails under the look and Mahariel agrees that Nymm will be the one to enter the Fade.

Zevran watches as they prepare the ritual. It’s just as Nymm holds his hands over a bowl of glowing liquid that he finally looks over to Zevran. Nymm manages a little smile and a tilt of his head, but before Zevran can respond, there is a rush of magic and a flash of light. Two of the other mages catch Nymm’s body before it hits the floor.

“Don’t fret, lad,” Zevran hears a voice behind him say. He realizes that he’d tried to rush forward toward Nymm and turns to find that the First Enchanter is looking at him. “He is stronger than you might think; he had one our best Harrowing performances.”

 _Then why was he locked in a cell at the bottom of your tower?_ Zevran doesn’t ask. He turns away and says nothing instead.

The waiting is hard this time too. Zevran wonders what will happen if Nymm fails. Will he die? If he comes back, will he be himself? Will the Templar standing watch near his cot rush forward to kill him? Hours tick by, and the mood in the room blackens

In the end, Zevran doesn’t have to worry about the “what ifs” - Nymm wakes up, a tired smile on his face. Soon after, the boy is declared free of possession. The day has been saved again; congratulations are offered and gratitude is showered down on both the Warden’s party and the mages.

Later that night, Zevran has an idea of his own. He pulls Nymm aside and the two of them find an empty room in a wing that has been mostly untouched by the fighting. There, Zevran undresses the mage and offers congratulations of his own.

Zevran is surprised to find that the other man is not the blushing virgin he expected; the sex is good. Very good.

Zevran is also surprised to find a brief moment of tenderness after they’ve finished fucking. They remain on the bed, tangled up together, and share a long, slow kiss.

He thinks about that kiss again even after they part ways.

 

* * *

 

_Denerim._

Zevran knows that it’s very nearly the end. The Landsmeet is over and Alistair will be the King of Ferelden, provided the Wardens are actually able to slay the Archdemon. Forces are gathering in the city as they prepare to mount the final assault. The dwarven warriors arrived the day before, the Dalish archers that morning.

Zevran is eating his evening meal when the mages from Kinloch Hold arrive. The dining hall gets a little louder as the new arrivals flood in to eat after their long march. He looks around and is a little disappointed when he doesn’t see a familiar head of white hair. He goes back to his meal and finishes. Perhaps they needed Nymm to stay behind at the tower.

Ah well. He’ll just have to figure out where he can get a drink. Maybe he can sharpen his knives one more time.

“Hello again,” a familiar voice says before Zevran can stand. “We keep running into one another, don’t we?” Nymm sits down on the bench across from him. He looks a little better than the last time Zevran saw him. Still tired, but not so unhappy.

“Hello,” Zevran says, and smiles over at the mage. “I only regret that it always seems to be under such unfortunate circumstances.” This earns Zevran a chuckle.

That night, he sneaks Nymm into his quarters. Zevran’s lucky to be associated with Warden Mahariel; he knows it’s the only reason he has a room to himself. He counts his blessing as they take advantage of the privacy. This time, Zevran thinks it’s a little more like making love; they take things more slowly, and there’s a lot more of the kissing.

Zevran’s glad.

The next day is full of preparations, and the night is again reserved for the two of them. He does take the time to visit Mahariel; the elf is not taking her separation from Alistair very well, and Zevran worries. There’s a strange look in her eyes when he leaves her; he makes a note to check on her before the battle commences.

Finally, it’s time. Nymm is away with his mages and Zevran is at his friends’ sides. It’s a fierce battle, much harder than anything they’ve faced before. Zevran is not with the Warden when she climbs to her doom; he has been ordered to hold the gate, along with Alistair.

He watches her go and realizes that he will never see her alive again.

Mahariel is triumphant in death, and her companions are left to cope with the victory she left for them.

Later that night, Nymm joins him in his room again. This time, the mage holds Zevran while he cries for his friend. It’s not something he’s proud of, but it’s something he needs. He’s grateful that Nymm seems to understand.

Zevran finds that he isn’t sure what to do with himself anymore; he’s a free man, but… He throws himself into helping the city recover from the Darkspawn attack. It’s good to have something to focus on. He finds ways to spend time with Nymm over the next few days, in between the cleaning and Nymm’s healing and the organizing of the keep. Eventually, it’s time for the mage to return to his tower.

“Come away with me,” Zevran says as they lie next to one another in his bed.

“I can’t,” Nymm replies, and looks at him sadly. “They’ll hunt me down.”

Zevran knows it’s true, as much as he wishes it wasn’t. The Templars of Kinloch Hold don’t take kindly to their mages slipping out of their stone prison. He knows the two of them have been living on borrowed time the past few days. And really, isn’t that the story of his life?

They make love one last time.

 

* * *

 

_Antiva._

Zevran leaves Ferelden a few weeks after Mahariel’s funeral. He returns home so he can settle a few debts. He cuts a bloody swath through the Crows and makes them think twice before hunting him down. For now, anyway. From then on, he’s a free agent.

Sometimes he thinks about sending a letter to Nymm. He never acts on it.

Later that year he returns to Ferelden to visit Denerim on business. One thing leads to another and he finds himself traveling to Kinloch Hold. He’s welcomed there as a guest (and friend of the King), though some of the Templars are loathe to allow him to stay.

‘Important Royal Business’, he tells them.

One younger recruit asks his supervisor what sort of royal business involves bedding one of the Apprentices. There’s really no answer for that.

Things stay like that for a while - Zevran wanders the world, practicing his craft doing his best to enjoy his freedom. Every year, he returns to Ferelden for the same business with the Circle. (Some years, he even makes it more than once.) Before he leaves, he always offers to steal Nymm away.

It never works.

And then, six or seven visits later, Zevran arrives and finds that Nymm is no longer there.

“The Free Marches,” the First Enchanter tells him when he asks. “He’s gone to travel the Circles there, to help train healers. He should be back here in two years. Maybe three. By now, he should be in Starkhaven. Next is Kirkwall.”

Zevran notices how the First Enchanter’s face darkens a little when he says the word Kirkwall.

 

* * *

 

_Kirkwall._

Zevran had decided to wait to see Nymm again. It’s too hard to gain access to Circles that don’t know him as a friend of the Hero of Ferelden and the King. But fate seems to have a sense of humor, and he ends up outside of Kirkwall anyway.

Fate also decides that he should meet the Champion of Kirkwall, a fierce woman named Hawke. And of course, the Champion’s lover is none other than his dear Isabela. Fate really is a tricky bitch.

The Champion helps him with his Crow problem, and later he helps the Champion (and Isabela) out of their clothes. Isabela is just as fun as he remembered, and her Hawke is very nearly as wicked. Afterward, while they’re sorting out their clothes, he asks them about Kirkwall’s Circle. _Are the mages well-cared for? How hard would it be to visit?_

He doesn’t like the Champion’s answers.

Zevran goes with Hawke to a place called the Gallows a few days later. She’s there to see her little sister, and she also has business with the woman in charge. Zevran is there as a courtesy to Hawke, and is left out of the meeting. When he asks a Templar if there’s a healer from Ferelden present, the man sneers at him. There might be, but even if there is, nobody is allowed inside.

No, this place isn’t as open as Kinloch Hold, and that’s really saying something.

When they bring Hawke’s sister out to the courtyard for a visit, Zevran finds that the Champion of Kirkwall has pulled a few strings for him as well. Accompanying the younger Hawke is a familiar elf with white hair. He sees Zevran and stares at him for a moment. Zevran smiles and approaches Nymm.

Hawke embraces her sister and leads her to a nearby bench to talk, and the two elves are left to stand together.

“You again,” Nymm says.

“I’m hard to get rid of,” Zevran replies, and reaches out to touch Nymm’s arm. He doesn’t like how thin he looks now, how tired. Nymm laughs though, and it lights up his face.

The two of them talk quietly for a bit, standing close together in the heavily-guarded courtyard. Kirkwall’s Circle is different, Nymm tells him. It’s not a good place to be. He doubts that they’ll let him journey on to Ostwick like he should be, and fears he’ll never get to leave. There’s also the looming threat of Tranquility.

“I should have let you steal me away before,” he says. “But it’s too late for that now.” He smiles sadly and something in Zevran aches.

They embrace after a guard informs them their time is up. He kisses Nymm’s cheek once before the mage is forced back through the gate. He takes Bethany Hawke by the hand and the two of them walk back inside.

“If I knew how to get them safely out for good, it would be a done deal,” Hawke says softly to Zevran. Her voice is low and quiet, but there’s steel in it.

“When you figure it out, I am your man,” he replies.

 

* * *

 

_The Gallows._

Zevran is back in Kirkwall a few months later. He’d heard rumblings of more trouble and had come as quickly as he could. He finds a city tensely balanced on the edge; it’s waiting for something to tip it over into chaos. And of course, it doesn’t take long.

He watches as an explosion lights up the sky.

Well, that’d do it.

He finds himself back in the Gallows again, making his way through Templars doing battle with mages. It’s unfortunately familiar territory, but he does his best to assist mages when he can. Zevran finally catches up with the Champion and her companions.

Hawke has found her sister, but Bethany doesn’t know what happened to Nymm; she hadn’t seen him before the explosion.

Zevran fights along with the Champion, though he pauses every so often to check the corpses lining the halls. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if he finds one with that familiar white hair. Luckily, it doesn’t comes to pass; he’s unable to find Nymm Surana, alive or dead.

The final battle is upon them, and the woman in charge of the place has started to glow. Zevran wonders if his life could possibly get any stranger. Then, the giant statues lining the place start attacking and Zevran immediately curses himself for jinxing it.

Zevran, of course, is knocked out by a particularly angry statue near the end of the fight. He isn’t conscious to witness Meredith turning into a living statue. But…maybe it’s better that way; it’s too hard to believe even for the people who see it.

He wakes a few hours later to a cool hand touching his brow. He knows this touch! His eyes snap open and he’s looking up into a face he knows.

“You know,” Nymm says. “You’ve really got to stop getting hit on the head. We can’t keep meeting like this.”

Zevran laughs and it feels like a weight has lifted from him.

 

* * *

 

_Waking Sea._

“Are you sure you must go?” Zevran asks. They’re standing against the rail of Isabela’s ship, looking at the coastline in the distance. They’re a week out of Kirkwall, hitching a ride with Hawke and her companions.

“Yes,” Nymm says. “I’m an apostate here. I participated in the Kirkwall uprising. They’re going to come looking for me.” He sighs and leans against Zevran.

“But the Gallows…they said most of the blood vials were destroyed,” Zevran replies.

“Mine is back at home in Ferelden,” he points out. “If I turn myself in there, I might not be punished.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Zevran says.

“I know,” Nymm says.

“You…you said before that you wished I would have stolen you earlier. Well, you’re stolen now. Stay.” Zevran hopes he doesn’t sound as desperate as he feels.

“I know,” Nymm says again, more softly. “But things have changed. I’ve heard that there’s been talk of the mages gathering to dissolve the Circles. I saw what happened in Kirkwall; they’re going to need me.”

 _But I need you_ , Zevran doesn’t say.

He doesn’t convince Nymm to sail away with him in the end. Instead, they make the journey to Amaranthine and leave him there on the docks. The Wardens will help him get back to Kinloch, and from there… Zevran hopes he doesn’t end up back in that old cell.

 

* * *

 

_Rivain._

Zevran is in Llomerryn when he hears that the College of Mages has been disbanded. He hasn’t been back to Ferelden yet to see if Nymm is safe in his tower; Zevran wonders if he’s even still alive.

 

* * *

 

_Antiva City._

Zevran is back in Antiva City when he receives an unexpected letter from Nymm. He doesn’t know how the mage has managed to track his whereabouts from halfway across Thedas, but he’s pleased nonetheless. (The answer, of course, is magic. And a bit of borrowed Warden coin.)

Nymm says that he has been accepted back into the Circle, and he has joined a group of other mages trying to find a peaceful solution to the current trouble. There’s going to be a big meeting soon. He hopes to see Zevran some time in the future, but doesn’t know where he’ll be just yet. He apologizes again for having to leave.

Zevran unfortunately knows that the letter has taken its time in getting to him. He also knows that the gathering didn’t work out; the mages are already in revolt.

He sets it aside and tries not to worry.

It almost works.

 

* * *

 

_Wycome._

Zevran is in Wycome when the sky splits open. He doesn’t notice it; he’s busy on a job, and Wycome is very far from Haven. He hasn’t thought about Nymm in a while, though deep down he still hopes that the mage is alive.

Word travels. The Conclave has been destroyed and the Divine herself is dead. Andraste has chosen a man who walked out from the Fade itself, and he’s gathering an army in the Frostbacks. _An Inquisition,_ they call it.

Zevran dismisses most of it as gossip, though part of him worries about the larger ramifications. And maybe another part still worries about the mage.

A few days later, he receives a bird and wonders how in the world people keep finding him. He stops wondering when he realizes who it’s from. So, Leliana is involved in all the madness down south? Zevran thinks he might pay a visit after all.

 

* * *

 

_Skyhold._

By the time he’s close to Haven, he finds out that it’s been buried under an avalanche. Of course it has. Well, no big loss there - he hadn’t liked that place the first time around. He’s directed to a new place in the Frostbacks called Skyhold. He’s loathe to travel farther in the cursed snow, but he’s a man of his word, and he’d already sworn he’d help Leliana.

He arrives at Skyhold cold and miserable. It’s an impressive castle, but he thinks they should probably invest in a better road. Upon noticing how much repair the castle itself needs, he changes his mind. He slips through the gates with a group of workers and makes his way to the tavern.

Things don’t seem as bad once his belly is full and he’s had a chance to warm up. The atmosphere around the keep is hopeful. These people have a purpose, and there is a great many different kinds of them around. Why, he’s even found that the newly appointed Inquisitor is actually a Qunari.

Zevran is leaving the tavern when he sees a group of mages walking by. He’d noticed a few others earlier, but it only occurs to him now that they’re wandering the keep freely. He’s only seen a few Templars around, and he doesn’t think they’re there just to watch the mages. It’s strange, but he finds he likes it. He wishes… No. He’s stopped wishing.

His meeting with Leliana goes well, though he’s a little worried by his old friend; she’s not quite the soft-hearted bard he remembers. Still, she welcomes him to the Inquisition and says that the Inquisitor is looking forward to meeting him the next day. For now, though, she gives him directions to the small room he’s been assigned. As he leaves, he can’t help but get the feeling she’s smirking at him.

He finds his room easily enough, though he gets a strange look from a pair of mages that pass him in the dimly lit hallway. It’s late though, and he’s too worn out to care. He opens the door, steps inside, and then pauses. Something is off. There’s a stack of books on the small desk, as well as a pile of parchment and an inkwell. A folded pile of clothing is on the chair in the corner, and the bedclothes are rumpled. This is already somebody’s room; he must have misheard Leliana’s instructions.

Zevran turns to leave and bumps into someone who is suddenly standing behind him. Shit. He has no excuse for not noticing somebody getting that close! He takes a step back and is about to apologize when he finds himself looking into a pair of violet eyes.

“…oh,” Zevran says.

“Oh,” Nymm agrees. His hair is longer now, held back from his face in a braid. He looks tired, but it’s the good kind of tired this time.

“This is supposed to be my room,” Zevran says dumbly. He wants to reach out and touch Nymm, but he’s scared that this is somehow not real. That if he does try to touch, the mage will disappear like a plume of smoke.

“That’s funny,” Nymm says with a soft laugh. “It’s already mine. Though…” He breaks the spell by moving in and wrapping his arms around the frozen assassin. “I don’t mind sharing.”

Zevran relaxes into the embrace once he realizes that it’s real. He buries his face against Nymm’s neck and breathes him in - he’s warm and solid and smells like elfroot and mint. They hold onto one another and Zevran feels lighter. Warmer. _Better._

“Congratulations,” Nymm eventually murmurs. His hand caresses the back of Zevran’s head. “You didn’t even have to get knocked out to find me this time.”

Zevran laughs at that and pulls back from the embrace. He grins at the mage before grabbing his hand and dragging him back into his own room. The door is shut firmly behind them.

They have a lot to catch up on.


	5. Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Day Five: Character Development**  
>  From failed assassination to close friends and lovers, Zevran and the Warden go through a lot together. How do they change in that time?

Nymm sat beside the fire and looked out into the darkness. Zevran lay sprawled out on the ground beside him, his head resting in Nymm’s lap. It was a quiet night, and around them, the rest of the camp slept peacefully. 

Their party was on its way back to Denerim, and soon after they would all be preparing for the Landsmeet. They were nearing the end of things. The road so far had been peaceful and lacking in random Darkspawn attacks; it was a most welcome change. Still, somebody had to do the nighttime watch, and tonight it was Nymm’s turn.

“You don’t have to stay out here, Zev,” Nymm said. He ran his hand through Zevran’s hair, earning him a satisfied little hum from the other elf. “It’s my watch tonight. Why don’t you go back into the tent and get some decent sleep?”

“Mm. And leave you out here all alone?” Zevran made no attempt to move from his spot. “Perish the thought. I insist on staying; you need me here to watch your back.”

Nymm chuckled and looked down at him. “Your eyes are closed,” he pointed out, a smile quirking up on his lips. He tilted his head back up to stare out into the dark line of trees just beyond their tents.

“Superior hearing,” Zevran replied, lifting his hand from his chest to give a dismissive wave. “They won’t get the drop on me.”

“My hero,” Nymm said dryly.

Zevran hummed again and fell silent. Honestly, Nymm didn’t mind the company; Zevran would keep him a little warmer, and a little less lonely. Somewhere behind him, Dog gave out a low  _ woof _ in his sleep.

Nymm ran a finger over the tip of one of Zevran’s ears and smiled to himself.

“What are you thinking, my dear Warden?” Zevran asked. His voice gave Nymm a little start, as he’d assumed Zevran had already drifted off. Nymm looked down to find that Zevran was very much awake, and staring up at him. “I’m just curious what’s put such a pretty smile on your face. I do hope it’s me.”

“You’re not far off,” Nymm replied.

“Oh?” Zevran tilted his head and peered curiously up at Nymm. 

“I was just…” Nymm thought about where his mind had been taking him. His finger, gently tracing the outline of Zevran’s ear. It was just a touch. Soft. Fond. But to Nymm, who’d once had very little knowledge of casual touch, it was so much more. 

How could he explain the occasional sense of wonder that still overcame him whenever he would reach out and touch Zevran? How being able to sit outside with his lover’s head in his lap still filled him with awe. The idea of even  _ having _ a lover (they were lovers, right?) was novel. And the fact that it was Zevran? It filled Nymm with an embarrassingly warm feeling. Affection? Satisfaction? A little of both, and more.

All of this would have been impossible for him to even  _ consider _ only a few months before.

No, Nymm couldn’t find the words to begin explaining. And even if he could, he didn’t want to ruin this new and fragile thing that they’d somehow built. Though, part of him believed that if there was anybody that might understand, it would be Zevran.

Instead, Nymm shrugged and tried to cover for himself. “I was just thinking of how amusing it still is. The way we first met, and now...here we are. Like...this.” He smoothed back a lock of Zevran’s hair and cursed himself for suddenly feeling so tongue-tied.

“I suppose it is amusing,” Zevran chuckled. “Not everyone would be so merciful with someone who had just attempted their assassination.”

“I know,” Nymm replied softly. He still couldn’t fully explain why he’d made that decision; it hadn’t been popular at the time, particularly with Alistair. “I...I’m glad I didn’t kill you, Zev.”

Zevran gazed up at him silently for a brief moment and Nymm was struck by how serious he looked. Light from the crackling fire reflected off of the other elf's eyes as he seemed to wrestle with his thoughts. Zevran swallowed and Nymm waited, unable to look away from him.

The fire crackled and something passed between them.

Whatever deeper words Zevran had considered remained unspoken. Instead, he smiled again, soft and maybe a little sad. “I am glad as well, Nymm,” he said.


	6. Father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Day Six: Family/Papa Zev**  
>  Zevran and the Warden having kids, Zevran meeting the Warden’s family, found family, whatever direction you want to take it!

Zevran had been lying in the Warden’s bed for a few hours now. His initial plan had been to get a little sleep while Nymm was gone. Of course, once Zevran was in the bed, he found he was unable to drift off. He supposed there was just too much on his mind.

It was the night before their final assault on Fort Drakon. Tomorrow, the Wardens would lead the push against the Archdemon, and Zevran would be fighting alongside them. If they were successful, the Blight would be stopped, and the day would be saved. If not...well, Zevran didn’t want to dwell on that.   
  
Sex was one of Zevran’s favorite distractions, and it was one he was sorely missing at the moment. By all rights, Nymm Surana should have been there with Zevran. But this night, he was in another’s bed. 

_ “There’s something I need to do tonight, Zev,” Nymm had said. He’d stood in front of the fireplace, his back turned to Zevran. _

_ “And what is that?” Zevran had asked playfully from the bed. _

_ “There’s something you need to know about tomorrow,” he’d said, and turned to look at Zevran. His face had been far more serious and drawn than Zevran had expected. There was nothing playful in his expression. _

_ Nymm had gone on to explain it to him - how important it was that a Warden strike the killing blow against the Archdemon. And how doing so would end that Warden’s life. Zevran had gone numb at the thought of it. _

_ Nymm had then explained the offer that Morrigan had made him - the offer that Nymm was going to take her up on. Nymm would sleep with her, and the child they conceived would be a lifeline. A possible way to end the Blight without requiring a Warden’s life. _

_ Zevran had agreed with him, no more questions asked.  _

And so Zevran waited. 

The creak of the door opening roused Zevran just as he was finally drifting off to sleep. He sat up and watched Nymm enter the dim bedroom. The Warden shut the door with a sigh and looked toward the bed. “Oh,” Nymm said. “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

“Mm,” Zevran shrugged. “I wasn’t really asleep.” He beckoned Nymm closer.

“Too nervous?” Nymm asked, then shuffled closer to the bed. He took a seat on the edge, body turned so he could better see Zevran.

“Something like that,” Zevran murmured. “How did it go? Did you do the deed?” He scooted closer to the side of the bed.

“Something like that,” Nymm replied with a little smile. “It...um. Well, Morrigan confirmed that it worked. She can tell already; she’s with child.” He stared down at his lap, thoughtful, and started to pick at the front of his robes.

“Good,” Zevran said. He rose to his knees, then leaned in over Nymm’s back to draw him into his arms.

“I suppose so,” Nymm replied with a soft chuckle. He relaxed back into Zevran’s embrace and let out a sigh. “Assuming the ritual does its job, now I just have to do mine. Easy. Kill the Archdemon without dying myself.” He closed his eyes and let his head rest against Zevran’s bare shoulder.

“You will,” Zevran said softly. He pressed his lips to Nymm’s temple, kissing it gently. He could taste the salt from the sheen of sweat that must have clung to the other elf earlier.

“It’s strange,” Nymm said. “I have so many things to worry about tomorrow, and yet right now, what I dwell on is the fact that I’m going to be somebody’s father.” 

Zevran huffed a laugh into Nymm’s hair and drew back from his kiss. “Truly?”

“Yes,” Nymm replied. He wrinkled his nose, but didn’t move his head from Zevran’s shoulder. “It’s never something I’ve considered before. I mean, have  _ you _ ?”

“I have thought about it,” Zevran replied. “At times, there is that little bit of worry that comes with sleeping with a woman.” He chuckled. He knew that Nymm had mostly been with men before, but he’d admitted to sleeping with a few women as well. Surely he’d considered it before.

“But that’s different,” Nymm insisted.

“How?”

“I mean. You don’t know that you have a child,” Nymm pointed out.

“No, I do not know for sure,” Zevran replied. “But it’s entirely possible.” He shrugged again. “It does not matter much if I were; they wouldn’t know me.”

“Would you want them to?” Nymm asked.   
  
“I…” Zevran paused at that. Ah. So, that’s what Nymm was getting at. It wasn’t so much the state of having a child out there somewhere, it was more of  _ being _ a father. “That, I do not know,” he admitted. “I never knew my father.”

“Me either,” Nymm said, and opened his eyes. 

They were both silent for a moment.

“It doesn’t matter,” Nymm said. He turned himself around and pushed against Zevran. They moved back so they were both lying on the bed. “This child won’t know me - Morrigan said she’s leaving after the battle is over. She’ll be raising them alone.” He sighed and nestled against Zevran’s side, his head now resting against Zevran’s chest. “Maybe that’s for the best.”

“Is that how you truly feel?” Zevran threaded his fingers through Nymm’s hair.

“Probably. I doubt that I’m great father material anyway,” he murmured.   
  
“Why do you say that?” Zevran asked. Nymm was a comfortably warm weight against him.

“Fathers are supposed to be supportive and patient. They’re good and strong and wise,” Nymm replied. “...and then there’s me. Alistair had to teach me how to buy bread a few months ago.”

“You have a rather idealized notion about what a father is,” Zevran laughed. He’d heard the bread story already.

“I had a lot of time to mull it over,” Nymm huffed. “What do  _ you _ think then?”

“I think that you have over-thought it,” Zevran replied. “ _ Father _ is just another title - there is no mold that they all have to fit.” He shrugged. “You’re a good man, mi amor. You’d be a good father to the child.”

“You really think so?” Nymm asked after a moment.

“Of course,” Zevran replied. “Plus, you know how to buy them bread now - it’s very important you keep the baby fed.”

“Ass,” Nymm said, and lightly smacked Zevran’s chest. “Babies don’t eat bread. ...do they?”


	7. Relationship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Day Seven: Commitment**  
>  “That sounds like a proposal.” Zevran and the Warden’s relationship may start as a physical thing, but it evolves to something much deeper. How do they navigate that change?

“You’re all right with him doing that?” Alistair asked. He set his mug down on the tavern table and plopped down in the seat across from Nymm. He nodded vaguely in the direction of something behind Nymm.  
  
“What?” Nymm blinked. He’d been staring into his own mug of ale, feeling pleasantly warm and a little buzzed. He turned his head to look over his shoulder toward the tavern’s bar. He blinked again, trying to figure out what Alistair needed his opinion on.  
  
Nymm quickly spotted Zevran, who was leaning against the bar and flirting shamelessly with one of the human barmaids. He watched as Zevran reached out and brushed some of the woman’s hair back from her face. She giggled and playfully batted at Zevran’s arm.  
  
“Oh,” Nymm said. He turned back to Alistair and shrugged. “You mean Zev’s flirting?”  
  
“Yes,” Alistair replied. He was looking at Nymm like he was crazy. “His flirting! I thought you two had ‘your thing’ going on still.” He gestured at his own ear, then pointed over to the gold earring that adorned Nymm’s. “Isn’t it supposed to be officially official now?”  
  
“It is,” Nymm said, and nodded. He’d told Alistair about it a few days after their reconciliation, when the other Warden had asked about the new earring.  
  
Alistair made a disgruntled noise and grabbed for his mug. “Then why is he still flirting with someone else right now?” he demanded.  
  
“Because he enjoys flirting?” Nymm replied. “Should it bother me?”  
  
“I…” Alistair trailed off. His cheeks were pink. “I just...don’t want to see you hurt,” he grumbled, looking flustered.  
  
Nymm smiled over at him. “I know, Alistair,” he said. “You’ve said as much before, and I appreciate it - it’s very sweet.” He laughed took another sip of his ale. Alistair’s constant concern warmed him.  
  
“Yeah, well…” Alistair’s whole face was red now. He took a long drink of his own ale.  
  
“I trust Zevran,” Nymm said. “And if he wants to have a little fun over there, that’s fine. Let him enjoy himself.” Nymm had never expected Alistair to ‘get’ his relationship with Zevran, and he doubted the other Warden would now. But it was enough that he accepted it anyway.  
  
Nymm turned to glance back at Zevran one last time. The Antivan had moved on to the man next to him at the bar. The man in question had his hand resting casually on Zevran’s leather-clad hip.  
  
He rolled his eyes and looked back to Alistair, who was almost choking into his mug - he must have noticed as well. Nymm laughed and shook his head.  


* * *

  
Later that night, Nymm retired to the room he was sharing with Zevran. Though he went upstairs by himself, he wasn’t alone for long. Zevran let himself in just as Nymm was climbing into bed. It didn’t take long for Zevran to join him, sans clothing.  
  
It wasn’t every night that they got to share a real bed.  
  
“Did you enjoy yourself?” Nymm asked. Zevran was on top of him, his lips working at Nymm’s neck. Both of them were naked and half-hard.  
  
“What do you mean?” Zevran asked, pulling back from his kissing to look at Nymm curiously. Nymm ran a hand through Zevran’s hair and the other elf made a contented noise.  
  
Nymm laughed and traced a finger around the tip of Zevran’s ear. “Earlier, when I was having drinks with Alistair. We saw you at the bar getting rather cozy somebody.” Nymm decided against letting know about Alistair’s concern; he was letting that issue rest for now.  
  
“Ah, yes. The barmaid was quite lovely, no? Her name is Carla, and she was very eager to show me the special selection in the back.” Zevran’s eyes flashed merrily and he leaned into Nymm’s touch.  
  
“And did she?” Nymm asked.  
  
“No,” Zevran said. “By then, a handsome young man named Sam was buying me drinks. Carla preferred the money, and I preferred the drink.”  
  
“And Sam?” Nymm asked, smirking.  
  
“Mm. I suppose. But neither compare to the current company.” Zevran moved his hips, dragging his cock along Nymm’s.  
  
Nymm sighed and relaxed back into the lumpy pillow. “Flatterer,” he said, and tugged playfully at Zevran’s hair. “But...if you wanted to, you know I wouldn’t mind, right?”  
  
“If I wanted to what?” Zevran asked, stilling himself and looking down at Nymm.  
  
“Sample Carla’s special selection, or enjoy Sam’s company,” he replied, looking back up at Zevran. “I suppose I’m saying if there’s ever a time you’d like to fuck somebody else, I don’t mind.” Though there was a playful smile on his lips, the look in his eyes was serious.  
  
“Sex is just sex,” Nymm continued. “And what we have…”  
  
“We have sex,” Zevran replied with a smirk.  
  
“We do,” Nymm agreed with a huff of laughter. “But...we have more than that now. We have this. _Us_.” He felt his cheeks heat up, but he didn’t look away from Zevran. Being open about their feelings for one another was still new, but it was _good_.  
  
“Oh,” Zevran said. “I see…” He moved his hand over and traced a finger around Nymm’s ear. He lingered on the earring, letting his finger gently caress it. “I feel the same,” he murmured after a moment.  
  
Nymm nodded, still staring up at Zevran. The assassin’s expression was sincere, and much more vulnerable than Nymm would have expected - he hadn’t planned on making things so serious between them. Nymm stroked Zevran’s cheek and he sighed in response.  
  
The two of them let the moment pass quietly. They remained still, both content to simply be touching and sharing a gaze.  
  
“Though right now, there’s only one man in particular that I’m eager to fuck,” Zevran said, his voice finally breaking the comfortable silence.  
  
And with that, the moment was over.  
  
Nymm laughed and wrapped his legs around Zevran’s waist. He rocked against him as a reminder that they’d previously been on their way to doing just that. “Well, get on with it then,” he said.  
  
“With pleasure, mi amor,” Zevran replied, and leaned back in to kiss Nymm. Far be it from him to disappoint the man he loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I'm so sorry that this ended up taking forever! But hey, I got it done in the end.
> 
> Thank you everybody for reading!


End file.
